The Chosen
by Lomelindi
Summary: ON HOLD. Lost, lonely and without any memories, a boy finds shelter in the arms an unlikely ally. Together, they find themselves entangled in a deadly battle against blood, fate and tears. SETOYAMI inspired by Noir
1. The Eye

Hey guys! XD Miss me? I KNOOOOW I have to work on LCDLM (which is w/ my betas right now) and DC (which is totally and terribly stuck -sob-) but this plot bunny was biting at me so I just HAD to write it. I haven't been in the mood to write lately, so I consider this a great victory for me. :-D This is for you, Dragon, since you liked it so much! XD And a thanks to both Pysche and Dragon for helping me brainstorm ideas. NOTE: I'm sorry I didn't get to use my betas this time, mainly cuz I don't know where they are (yes, I lost them ) and I was totally sick of rewriting this chapter. :-/ I don't think I could stand another rewrite, which is why I opted to just go and post this bloody thing. Maybe next time, guys! I luv ya, anyways!

Oh, and in case you're interested in the anime, I wouldn't suggest looking it up unless you can get the episodes. The story doesn't make a lot of sense unless you watch it (and even so, it STILL doesn't make a lot of sense). **AND I APOLOGIZE FOR ALL THE PLOT HOLES**! X( They're everywhere, and I can't fix them! Noir itself has PLENTY of plot holes, so stick with me! Besides that…

ENJOY EVERYONE!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Title**: The Chosen

**Author**: Lomelindi

**Rating**: R for lots of killing and cursing (NC-17 POSSIBLY on yahoo groups)

**Pairing**: Seto/Yami

**Spoilers**: most of the anime NOIR ;;

**Warnings**: If you do not like yaoi, DO NOT READ. If you don't like Seto/Yami, DO NOT READ. If you don't like blood and gore, PLEASE read! NOIR, despite all the killing, has next to no blood, and I want to keep it that way.

**Disclaimer**: NOIR and Yu-Gi-Oh! do not belong to me

**Summary**: Lost, lonely and without any memories, a boy finds shelter in the arms an unlikely ally. Together, they find themselves entangled in a battle against blood, fate and tears. SETO/YAMI (inspired by Noir)

**Status**: Incomplete

**Detication**: This is to the lovely Dragon, who is obsessed with adventure and was also the one that got me so worked up about this fic in the first place. XD Here ya go! Hopefully this won't disappoint you... -sweatdrop- Don't kill me! (And another thanks to Pysche,

* * *

**xxxIMPORTANT NOTExxx**

Though the general, long-term plot of this story is based heavily on that of Noir, almost all the details, dialogue, fights, scenes and wutever fancy moments are totally made up on my part. I'm using both my imagination and my poor memory, so bear with me and hopefully enjoy.

* * *

**"Noir is the famed shadow of death. Two maidens of retribution, sinners in paradise, guard us in our peaceful slumber." Noir (opening act)

* * *

**

**CHAPTER ONE: The Eye**

Most people find it annoying to hear honking and chatting all day long. Seto, on the other hand, didn't mind at all. He always left the window of his apartment wide open to allow in all the smells and noises of Domino. It wasn't that he particularly LIKED the smell of car exhaust, mind you, nor did he like that crabby old lady across the street... but strangely enough, the city calmed him.

After all, assassins were wary of silence. Silence meant danger, as did being alone. And no matter how skilled they were, most assassins -Seto included- did not like having to creep around and look over their shoulder all day. That was perhaps the most frightening trait of assassins. They were not psychotic, mentally ill or blood thirsty. They could pass as perfectly normal people and do a bloody good job of it, too. Unlike serial killers and secret agents, assassins led relatively quiet lives. They were freelance in their way of living, using their deadly skills only when called upon by some rich guy with a big problem. Most of the time, they were just the girl next door, the boy down the street, the nice man with the cute dog. Heck, you could be dating an assassin and you wouldn't know.

Seto took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes with a content sigh. It was a dreadfully hot summer day, but he didn't mind. He had stripped down to his boxers and a muscle shirt, both of which clung most uncomfortably to his sweaty skin. Above him, the ceiling fan twirled happily away, bringing cool relief from the blistering hot weather.

His laptop, previously on screen saver, suddenly beeped to life.

"You have one new message," it intoned in its flat, computerized voice.

Seto raised his head from the back of his chair, wiping away some long chocolate bangs from his brow. His eyes narrowed into slits, flashing the color of icy sapphires. He hadn't been expecting a new assignment quite so soon.

A picture popped up on the screen. On it was a boy, maybe 15 or 16 years of age. He was startlingly attractive and striking in appearance, with wild, tri-colored hair, ruby eyes, and wonderfully tanned skin. But for some odd reason, he looked bored out of his mind in the snapshot, his bright-colored eyes dull and emotionless as they gazed solemnly at Seto from the computer screen.

That gaze... That strange, emotionless gaze... Something about it irked Seto. Something about it wasn't... _natural_.

The assassin frowned. What the fuck was this? Some hacker's sick joke? No one but his employers knew his email, and even so, they knew not to give it away without a price. After all, assassins could only be found when they wanted to be found. Unless you were filthy rich and desperate to see someone disappear off the face of the earth, you wouldn't have known a man named Seto Kaiba even existed.

Finally, a few seconds later, a message popped up below the picture.

_'Come make a pilgrimage for the past with me.'_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Seto looked around warily. The email message had led him here, to some abandoned construction site at the edge of the city, far from any public locations. That alone made him instantly wary. In fact, he wasn't even sure if this place was abandoned, which made him even more suspicious. He didn't want to shoot some innocent construction workers just because he happened to run into them, but he will if he had to. After all, to Seto, privacy was a bit of a touchy issue... which brought him back to his current predicament. He didn't like that some random kid knew his email. Nope, he didn't like that at all.

Tightening his grip on the silver briefcase hanging from his side, the brunette pursed his lips, his eyes no more than steely blue slits under his bangs. He wasn't even sure why he bothered to come here... He could have easily ignored the email and went on with his life, even though it wasn't much of a life in the first place.

Still, there was something about this boy...

Seto shook his head, giving himself a mental slap. This was no time for doubts. He was alone, irritated and in a weird, creepy place. Even to his most primal instincts, this did not bode well.

He took a moment to collect himself, taking in his surroundings and imprinting everything to memory. An unfinished building complex loomed above and around him, made almost entirely of bars, beams and chunks of steel. The compound was dark and unlit, the semi-finished roof and multiple stories robbing its insides of virtually all light. Everywhere Seto looked, there were boxes, rubble and lumber, and no doubt more awaited him inside.

A lesser man may have quaked in his shoes to find himself alone and with no easy way out.

But then again, Seto was no lesser man.

Undeterred, he strode forward into the building and gingerly began to pick his way through the darkness, as silent and graceful as a cat. Here and there he tip-toed through a maze of scattered boxes, then walked the plank across a dusty old piece of lumber. Never once did he slip or utter a word.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It didn't take Seto very long to reach the heart of the unfinished complex. He stopped at the edge of a large, empty plaza. Probably built to be some skylight, it was really nothing but a huge tube of emptiness in the middle of the building, shooting upwards until it reached the sky outside. Through its top, Seto could see that the sun was beginning to set, its fiery descent burning the sky a warm, golden-rose hue. Already, the chill of night lingered in the air. A burst of cool wind blew down from the skylight, whipping Seto's dark trenchcoat around his legs and slapping his bangs against his eyes.

Frowning in annoyance, the assassin absentmindedly brushed his hair aside as his sharp eyes searched for any signs of movement. _He knew someone was here_. He could feel it deep in his bones.

Indeed, not moments later, there was a soft sound across the plaza. A footstep. Seto's attention snapped toward it.

A small, slender boy emerged from the shadows, his movements fluid but slow. He was, as Seto expected, the strange-looking boy from the email, colorful hair and all. He was dressed in the blue pants and jacket of Domino High, with only a tight black leather shirt underneath and two punk belts around his slim waist. A black choker and a golden locket adorned the boy's slender neck, the latter flashing brilliantly in the sunlight as it hung loosely against its owner's chest.

Seto's eyes narrowed as he stepped out to make himself known. The boy caught sight of him immediately. For a second, neither of them spoke a word as they studied each other carefully. Scarlet met sapphire as their gazes locked and held.

Seto chose to break the silence. "Hn... I'm here," he said simply, letting his words hang between them.

The boy stared at him with that strange gaze of his, saying nothing.

Seto's irritation rose a notch. "Who are you and what do you want?" he demanded with a snarl. It was always better to get straight to the point... He never was one for small talk.

The boy bolted.

Seto was almost caught off guard. _Almost_. A vivid curse flashing across his mind, the assassin dropped his briefcase and snapped it open, pulling out his silencer. Bounding in leaps to make up for lost distance, he took off after the boy, his long strides carrying him swiftly across the emptiness of the plaza.

Normally, Seto would be a bit more careful running in open space, but right now he was beyond caring. He wanted to know who this boy was, and he wanted to know _now_. He was in no mood for silly games.

The chase was amazingly silent. Despite both boys running at top speed, their steps were refrained, nimble and quiet, barely making a noise as they bounded through the dark building.

Seto made a quiet grunt as he hurled himself over a large beam, using one arm to flip his body in the air. He landed silently and effortlessly, crouched like a cat, his slim legs easily absorbing the shock of his landing. In a blink of an eye, he was up and running again, leaping over boxes and other pieces of rubble.

Now, the assassin believed himself to be an excellent runner, but he had to give the other boy some credit... For his size, the shrimp was either surprisingly in shape or miraculously lucky to be able to dodge a top-class assassin like this and not be shot within the first two minutes.

Seto managed to keep the boy in his line of sight, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he expected. Clearly, the boy had some type of training. Most people were noisy runners (therefore easy targets) and weren't nearly as fast.

Damnit, now he got himself distracted. The boy had vanished. Gun cocked at his side, the assassin slowed and spun around in place, his eyes darting about in their attempt to find his prey. He had somehow lost track of the boy, and it didn't make him happy. How in God's name did some punk kid manage to outrun _him_?

Instantly, Seto got his answer. The boy actually wasn't faster than he was... He just found another path. Seto's sharp eyes caught sight of the boy's shoe as it disappeared up a makeshift stairway to the right.

Cursing his own stupidity, the assassin bolted after the boy, his long legs enabling him to jump every other step as he bounded up the stairs in hot pursuit. NOW the chase was becoming noisy. Despite their best efforts, both of their movements shook and rattled the flimsy metal stairs, shaking years worth of dust all over the place.

Dust was getting into Seto's eyes, but he merely ignored the irritation. This punk was _not_ getting away... He was either going to get shot or he was going to give Seto the answers he wanted. As of right now, the assassin was sourly tempted to do the former.

For a few desperate moments, the two climbed steadily upward, the boy frantically running up the steps, the assassin leaping upward in great bounds. Finally, the smaller of the pair abandoned the stairs altogether, jumping off on to one of the top stories. Seto followed him shortly after, growling to himself and afraid that he had lost the boy once again.

To his surprise, the boy hadn't gone anywhere. He was sitting at the end of a long beam jutting out from the edge of the unfinished building, beyond where the concrete floor ended abruptly and fell two hundred or so feet to the pavement below. A nice strong wind was blowing up now, and against a brilliantly burning sunset, Seto could see the silhouette of the boy's wild hair billowing and whipping about. Surprisingly, the boy didn't seem at all distressed about his dangerous predicament... In fact, he was calmly swinging his legs and fingering his gold locket, his gaze fixed on some point in the cascade of colors blazing across the sky.

Frowning in mild confusion, Seto aimed his gun at the boy's back, his entire body tense as he strode forward with silent, deliberate strides. "Look, I'm not going to chase you anymore," he remarked finally, his voice slow and even, "I just need to know what you want with me."

If the boy was surprised by Seto's presence, he didn't show it. He didn't even blink an eye. "You're Setep." he whispered. His voice was silky and elegant, with a hint of an exotic accent.

Seto blinked. "What?"

"You're Setep, right?" the boy repeated quietly. He turned his head over his shoulder and smiled a little, though it was hard to see anything in the bright light. "I've been waiting for you."

Seto's eyes flashed with hard, icy steel. Cautiously, he approached closer, his fingers clenched around the trigger of his gun. "Only eight people in the world know me by that name," he managed through gritted teeth, "and you're not supposed to be one of them."

The boy regarded him quietly for a moment.

"Give me your name at least," Seto demanded. "What's your name?"

There was a sparkle of light against the dark silhouette of boy's face, and it took Seto a moment to realize it was a tear.

"...I don't remember..." the boy whispered, his voice barely audible.

The assassin absorbed this silently. If he hadn't been confused before, he sure was now.

Just then, the boy climbed slowly to his feet.

Seto tensed visibly. "Look, that's dangerous..." he growled, watching the strong wind continuously try to rip the slender boy from the beam, "Why don't you come back and-"

A shot rang out.

The boy jumped from the beam.

Seto cursed colorfully. He threw himself against one of the closest upright beams, his gun by his side, his throat constricting painfully. Alarm bells were going off in his head. Who was shooting? How many shooters were there? And _what happened to the boy_?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next few minutes went as a blur. Seto was on automatic pilot. He was shooting at every movement and every sound, not even waiting until he heard a body fall before he was off running and shooting again. The gunfight had escalated from that single shot to multiple guns going off in all different directions, some too close for comfort. Seto was annoyed about every aspect of the situation. For one, there were people shooting at him from outside, probably positioned on other parts of the complex. Using his beam as protection, the assassin shot back at them, catching a few shooters but unable to see the others in the shadow of the building. There were other shooters all around him, some in the stories above him, some in the stories below him. He could hear their noisy movements and hushed voices echoing throughout the building.

One might think that Seto was panicked. No, he was far from it. He was as calm and cool as ever, hardly even blinking as he took down man after man. Sure, he may be outnumbered, but he had numerous advantages. For one, he was fast, young, and probably a lot more skilled than most of these shooters. Two, he had a silencer, a slender, high-tech gun with a fit-on muzzle that made its flash and sound hardly noticeable. Therefore, though he was taking down quite a few men at a time, the enemy was obviously having trouble locating his exactly position.

Which brought him back to yet another question. Who WERE these people? Seto had noticed that they were all middle-aged, official-looking men in dark suits. _The government_?

But on the other hand, a part of his mind quipped, who cares who they are? Seto ducked behind a complex of boxes, shooting two distant men to the left and one hidden behind a pillar to his right. The only thing that mattered right now was that people was trying to kill him and that he needed to shoot their sorry asses. Preferably before they shot _him_.

Just as that thought flitted through Seto's head, the sounds of more distant gun fight reached his ears. Apparently there was more shooting going on somewhere else in the building, but it certainly wasn't centered around _him_.

The boy.

It had to be the boy.

A million thoughts shot through Seto's bewildered mind. Who were these people after, him or the boy? How on earth did the boy survive that jump? And how the bloody hell did he get a gun, or even know how to shoot one?

The assassin decided to satisfy his curiosity and bolted for the stairs, all but flying down the steps, his trench coat flapping behind him. The stairs shook and groaned under his weight, immediately alerting the men above of Seto's presence. The assassin cursed to himself when he heard them running toward him, shooting wildly in the dark.

Jumping off the steps on to the ground floor and bolting over boxes and beams, Seto was relieved to find that he had put some distance between himself and his pursuers, but his relief was cut short when he came upon a gruesome scene.

"My god..." Cocking his gun to the ground, he skidded to a stop besides two collapsed beams on the very edge of the open plaza. Around his feet and leading into the plaza were the bodies of nearly a dozen and a half dead men, all dressed in black. Dropped exactly where they were shot, they had been taken out neatly and mechanically, each with a perfect red wound either over their hearts or through their forehead.

Seto felt his mouth go dry. This was _unbelivable_. How could that little squirt -if it was him at all- manage to do all this? No assassin would ever allow the enemy get this close without shooting them down first... but then again, whoever shot these men had aim that most assassins would willingly die for.

"GOTCHA!"

Seto went down hard, tackled from behind by three burly men. He was taller than them all, but not nearly as brawny. _Crap_, the assassin thought numbly as a fourth man joined the first three in holding him down. Seto struggled wildly against their grip, trying to perform any martial arts trick that came to mind, but the combined weight of the four men was enough to flatten him motionless. Another man stepped out from the shadows and stepped on his hand, forcing the assassin's fingers to relinquish his gun. Something sharp on the ground sliced through Seto's palm, but the pain only made the assassin struggle harder. No way he was going down like this!

A few more men came up, panting from their chase.

"DAMN, he's some shot, this kid!" one of them commented with both horror and fascination in his voice.

"That son of a _bitch_!"

_But I didn't do it_, Seto thought, mildly bewildered.

Something moved at the edge of his vision. He glanced up. From his vantage point on the floor, he could see every beam and bar that made up the ceiling. Even so, he was unprepared for what he saw.

The wild-haired boy was hanging upside down from his knees like a kid on monkey bars, his jacket hanging well below his head. But despite his awkward position, there was neither fear nor pain in the boy's eyes. Without a word, he raised a gun and shot every one of the men.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

All five men collapsed like duffel bags. The boy didn't even flinch.

Seto, on the other hand, was up in an instant, cradling his bleeding hand and picking up his gun with the other. Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, he carefully aimed the gun's muzzle at the boy temple, expecting some long-delayed fight to break out instantly. However, it never came.

The boy quietly dropped to the ground and righted himself, half-heartedly brushing his jacket off. When he finally looked up, there were glimmers of unshed tears in his eyes. And Ra... what eyes they were...

Good Lord, Seto thought, he had never seen a gaze so sad. Shaking himself out of it, he chose to keep his own eyes cold and neutral. He was sick of this, sick of looking at this weird kid and feeling sorry for him for reasons unknown. "NOW will you tell me who you are?" the assassin hissed, pointing his gun straight at the boy's head. Hey, just because the kid saved his life doesn't mean Seto necessarily had to trust him. In fact, Seto didn't trust _anyone_, and he'd very much like to keep it that way.

The boy raised his arm and calmly shot someone over Seto's shoulder. There was the familiar sound of a body dropping to the floor.

Already getting used to the boy's strange tactics, Seto didn't even bother to move his gun. "I would like _answers_, kid," he snarled. "I'm not going anywhere until I get them, and I'll shoot you if I have to."

The boy didn't answer for a long, long time, a lone tear trailing down his honeyed cheek. "Why...?" he whispered finally, looking at Seto with pained scarlet eyes. "You saw me... Why can I kill all these people... and not feel bad doing it?"

Seto hesitated.

The boy suddenly threw himself into a bunch of rubble on their left. Without a thought, Seto reflexively followed him. The ear-splitting _rat-tat-tat_ of a machine gun tore through the air, bullets slicing through the air where they were just seconds ago, some shots bouncing off beams and igniting on contact. Seto found himself in a now-familiar situation, flatted against a thick beam of steel with bullets flying past him on either side. On the bright side, there didn't seem to be any more men besides the ones shooting at them from across the plaza, but the assassin knew better than to get his hopes up.

He spotted the crimson-eyed boy not far away, crouched against his own protective barrier of some twisted piece of thick lumber. He looked as emotionless as ever, but there was a miserable droop in his shoulders. Seto watched him carefully, almost in disbelief. If he hadn't just seen it with his own eyes, there was no way in the seven heavens he would have ever believed such a little person to be capable of such horrific acts.

As if sensing the assassin's attention, the boy looked up with wide, questioning eyes.

Seto glared at him and then turned and shot at someone across the plaza, ducking quickly back against his beam. "Who are they after, you or me?" he managed breathlessly.

"Me," the boy said quietly, and left it there.

xxxxxFLASHBACKxxxxx

_"After him!"_

_The bamboo forest was dark and misty, but its serene silence was suddenly broken by the footsteps and cries of men. The boy tore through the bamboo at a neck-breaking speed, panting as he scrambled up a hill. There were people all around him, crunching the grass, aiming flashlights, yelling at each other._

_The boy continued to run, shooting occasionally and ducking bullets as he went. He didn't know where he was going or how he was going to get there, but he knew his supply of ammunition couldn't last forever. And sooner or later, he was going to get shot._

_Beyond the constant buzz of adrenaline, the boy felt, for a moment, a wave of sadness. Dejection. Loneliness._

_What had he done to make people hate him like this? _

xxxxxEND FLASHBACKxxxxx

Seto decided to drop the issue. There were far more important things than someone's name and history... Namely getting out of here alive.

"My car's out back," the assassin managed through gritted teeth, then paused as they both leaned out to shoot at a few men. "We can make it if we run."

The boy looked at him with wide-eyed stare again, this time with a sparkle of surprise and hope in his gaze. "What? We? But-"

"No buts," Seto snarled, his tone ice-cold. "If you want to get out of here alive, you better come with me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Seto didn't love anyone, and he very rarely loved anything. He didn't care much for material objects. After all, he just lost another one of his briefcases again, for the third time this month. Thankfully, there wasn't anything special in the case save some extra ammunition and an old gun he rarely used. He hadn't exactly prepared for a full-out war, after all.

But in any case, if there WAS one object Seto highly valued, it would have to be his car. It was amazing how many times that little black Jaguar saved his ass. One tended to get attached to things that saved one's life, after all.

Emerging from the darkness of the unfinished building, the two boys saw the car and felt a wave of relief -or at least Seto did, though he would never admit it. He did, however, take a moment to enjoy the fresh air and the silence of late sunset, but almost instantly turned and fixed the muzzle of his gun to his companion's temple.

The boy froze and stiffened.

"Give me your gun."

The boy quietly did so. Despite the pain in his injured hand, Seto took it with his bleeding fingers and jerked the barrel of his own gun toward his car. "Move it."

After a split second of indecision, the boy took a slow step, then another, then another. He moved warily but fluidly, never once looking back at Seto or at the gun pointed at his head.

Seto followed grimly, keeping his gaze even. The boy had guts, he had to admit. He couldn't sense a hint of fear or anger in him, though he could see a spark of defiance in those beautiful red eyes. Good. Seto liked defiance. It was a trait he himself possessed and was darn proud of.

"Get in the car."

The boy stopped by the side of car and didn't move any further.

"You heard me. Get in the car."

"Where are we going?" the boy asked quietly.

"To your house."

"How do you know I have a house?"

"Gut instinct. Now get in."

The boy turned his head and gave Seto a long, sour look. "Why should I?"

Seto gave a roguish grin. "We need to talk."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Seto hadn't expected himself to be right, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that the boy DID have a house. It was a small, old cottage on the edge of the city, not far from the construction site. Seto had been in this part of the city numerous times before, and from what he remembered, it wasn't exactly a safe neighborhood. In fact, the place was often a hideout for gangs, escaped convicts and exiles on the run. If he hadn't seen the boy's skill with a gun, Seto might have wondered how on earth a pretty little thing like him could live here and not be raped, kidnapped or brutally murdered within a day.

Opening the faded white door, the boy led him inside without a word or a protest. Seto, too, kept quiet as he stepped inside.

"Would you like some tea?" the boy asked suddenly when they were both in.

Seto raised an eyebrow as the smaller man brushed past him to close the door. "Sure."

The boy nodded and slipped off his shoes for a pair of slippers, then padded off to where Seto assumed the kitchen to be. Frowning, the assassin stepped in and looked around warily. He found himself in a surprisingly cozy home made up of a main living room and a small hallway leading to the kitchen, the bathroom and a single bedroom. The only furniture in sight was a sofa, a small TV, a small potted plant, some various pictures hanging on the wall, and an old traditional Japanese table surrounded by three pillows.

Taking a hint, Seto kneeled down on one of the pillows, setting both guns on the side of the table and taking off his shoes for respect's sake. It had been a while since he had any sort of tea ceremony, and he had to admit that he desperately needed one. It's the little things that make life interesting, they say.

The boy returned shortly with a tray bearing two steaming cups of tea and a small first-aid kit.

Seto raised a questioning eyebrow.

The boy ignored him and set the plate in the middle of the table, daintily placing one cup of tea in front of Seto and another in front of himself. Then settling down on a pillow beside the assassin, the boy opened the first aid kit, pulled out some gauze and reached over to grab Seto's injured hand.

The assassin hissed in pain and pulled away instantly, but the boy was surprisingly agile and managed to snag two of Seto's fingers. Sending a scolding glare at the taller man, the boy pulled Seto's hand back toward him, tearing a bit of gauze as he did so.

Reprimanded, Seto decided to drink his tea. He slowly brought the teacup to his lips and sipped carefully, senses alert for any type of poison or drug. He was pleased to find that not only was the tea drug-free, it was also of _excellent_ quality. Happily drinking away, Seto made a mental note to invite the boy over for tea sometime, even if that was one of the strangest ideas he had ever had.

Meanwhile, ignoring his own tea, the boy continued to work quietly and diligently on Seto's hand, cleaning the wound with some herbs and alcohol -Seto wasn't too happy about this part- and wrapping it up with the skill of a true nurse. "There," he murmured softly as he released Seto's hand.

Seto set the teacup down and raised his hand to eyelevel, inspecting it carefully. "You're good," he managed gruffly. It was the closest thing he could manage to a thank you.

The boy nodded, then silently raised his own teacup to his lips and began to sip.

By now, Seto was ready for some answers. "You _could_ tell me your name..." he offered pointedly between sips.

The youth stopped drinking and looked at him silently, then reached in his pant pocket with one hand and fetched out a small, white card. He slid it over the table to Seto.

Seto picked it up and eyed it with curiosity. It was a Domino High Student ID, complete with the blue emblem and everything. "Yami Motou?"

Yami nodded again, looking away shyly.

Seto's eyes narrowed. "That's not your name, is it?" he remarked, sliding the card back over.

Yami looked back at him with tired, bleary eyes. He glanced down at the card and shivered. "I don't know..." he whispered finally, voice tiny.

Seto frowned. "When's your birthday?"

"I don't know."

"Where were you born?"

"I don't know."

"What's your age?"

"I don't know."

"Where's your family?"

Yami hesitated, misery and grief in his eyes. "I don't know."

Seto furrowed his eyebrows. Well, this was going well, he told himself dryly. "What the hell DO you know then?"

Yami shrank back from Seto's annoyed tone and looked down at his tea, hurt.

Seto felt a brief pang of guilt, but fought it back. He came here for a reason and he wasn't going to take this bullshit, especially not from this punk kid. "Is that your family?" he demanded, pointing up to a picture hanging from the wall.

It was an old, faded picture, showing Yami with two others; a younger boy with the same type of hair and big violet eyes, and an older man dressed in a baseball cap and big blue overalls. The boy and the man were both hugging Yami from behind, the three of them laughing at something the camera could not comprehend.

Yami stayed silent, not even glancing up.

"What's _their_ names, or do you not know that either?"

Yami swallowed, his eyes slipping shut as if going into a trance. "Yugi Motou and Sugoroku Motou," he murmured softly.

"What are they to you?"

"Brother and grandfather."

"Supposedly."

"Yes."

"They're your family."

"Yes."

"Do you know them?"

"No."

"Do you remember them?"

"No."

Seto sighed, rubbing his temple. "Look, let me ask you one more time. What _can_ you tell me?"

At this, a visible tremor ran through Yami's slender body. He looked up at Seto, his gaze unreadable. "You're willing to listen?" he whispered hesitantly.

"Listen? Yes. Believe? We'll have to leave that for later."

xxxxxFLASHBACKxxxxx

_The boy awoke slowly, his head pounding, his eyes burning and heavy with sleep. Feeling overheated, he shoved off his covers and sat up, fighting to move his sluggish limbs. "Mmph…" he groaned, holding his throbbing head with his shaking hands. He rubbed his face furiously._

_WHERE AM I?_

_His bleary eyes could make out a small, white room, with a white bed, white covers, and white furniture. A ceiling fan twirled away above him, and a mirror sat cheerfully on top of an old dresser against the wall. The boy looked around nervously, hugging himself. He was dressed in some white PJ's he could not remember owning, and it was too hot under the covers and too cold outside them._

_WHAT'S GOING ON?_

_The youth stood, shivering, and made his way across the room to the dresser. Everything felt so cold, so unnatural... It was then that he noticed a blue uniform hanging from a clothes hanger on the doorknob. Giving it a long, wary glance, he turned back to the dresser and began opening the drawers, looking for... for something... for some hint... Why couldn't he remember anything?_

_WHO AM I?_

_The third drawer revealed much more than he expected. In it was a gun, a few cartridges of ammunition, a gold trinket of some sort, a small white ID card, and a small slip of paper. On the paper, scrawled in neat script, was the name Setep and an email address._

_I HAVE TO FIND SETEP. _**1**

xxxxxEND FLASHBACKxxxxx

"So you contacted to me because you thought that I could solve all your problems?"

Yami flinched but nodded affirmatively.

Eyes troubled and deep in thought, Seto sighed and leaned back on the heels of his feet. Frankly, he was more worried that more people knew him than he would like than he was about the circumstances of Yami's awakening, but then again, he had a feeling there was much more to this than either of them knew. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Yami's golden locket. "What is that, exactly?"

Yami looked down at the trinket, confused. Without a word, he took it off his neck and handed it to Seto, who took it from him with the care of a forensic scientist. The assassin's cool blue eyes scanned over the object carefully as he turned it over and over again in his hand.

It looked like a gold puzzle piece, but a strangely shaped one. There was an etching on the front... An etching of some sort of... eye...

xxxxxFLASHBACKxxxxx

_"Mom? Dad?" Seto peeked into the doorway, curiously. "I heard some weird noises... Are you guys...?" His heart stopped._

_Red. That was all he could see. Red everywhere. Across the floor, over the table, on the flowers, on the chairs... His father was sprawled out on his mother, who was sprawled on his brother, who was limp on the ground... None of them moved. Red covered Mokuba, too, and from his body, the color spread out on the floor in a weird shape... Almost like an eye... _

_Seto screamed._

xxxxxEND FLASHBACKxxxxx

"Setep?"

The simple word was enough to bring Seto snapping back into reality. He was shaking and tense all over, and he had a sudden urge to vomit. He bit his lip so hard he could feel blood dripping on to his tongue.

Yami watched him worriedly from across the table, confusion flashing in his otherwise emotionless eyes. "Can I have my charm back?" His voice was even and slow, as if talking to a child.

Seto swallowed against his suddenly dry throat, looking down at the gold trinket in his hand. His fingers were clenched painfully around it, almost as if he had been trying to strangle it to death. My god, he thought to himself, that _eye_...! Was it possible? Had the murderer of his family drawn the same symbol on the floor with Mokuba's blood?

The thought made him shudder.

"Setep? Setep!"

Seto looked up, his entire body taunt, his eyes hard as steel. "My _name_ is Seto Kaiba," he grounded out through clenched teeth, his hand wrapping even tighter around Yami's charm, "I'm a world-class assassin by the code name of Setep. I don't know you, how you got my name, or what the hell I'm doing here WITH you, but I know that I can't help you. My job is to take life away, not to restore them, and this amnesia business is just a waste of my precious time."

His words rang icily in the air.

Yami blinked at this sudden wave of information, then looked as if he had been slapped hard across the cheek. He lowered his gaze mournfully, unable to say a word.

Seto heaved a sigh and felt his head throb even more. Damn, he didn't mean to say all that... He had NEVER, until this point, given away any important information about himself, but... but that goddamn EYE!

Against his better judgment, he silently and slowly slid the trinket back across the table. After tormenting the kid like this, he might as well do ONE nice deed... After all, the symbol of the eye had been burned into his memory the moment he saw his dead brother all those years ago. He didn't need a lucky charm to remind him ofit.

Without a word, Seto picked up his gun and stood, turning to go.

"Please..."

Seto froze in his tracks.

"I have no one else to turn to."

Seto turned to look at Yami. The boy looked up at him with pleading eyes, all his previous dignity and silence gone. For a moment, he looked so desperate... so alone... so helpless...

"Then come stay with me."

CRAP! Seto slapped himself inside. That was the LAST thing he was planning on saying.

Clearly Yami wasn't expecting it either, if the incredulous stare he gave the assassin was any hint. The boy's gaze shifted awkwardly, his previously stolid eyes filled with confusion. "...Pardon?"

"Come stay with me." Seto honestly didn't know what possessed him to say that. Maybe it was that he felt bad for the boy, being so alone like this, or maybe it was because he was suspicious about that locket thing. Or hell, maybe it was just because the kid was cute.

Yami looked at him for a long, long time, his mind racing as he weighed his options. He was no fool, nor was he cowardly in any way. He knew he didn't know Seto nearly as well as he should, and on top of being armed and dangerous, both of them certainly didn't trust each other. Still...

"Are you coming or not?" demanded Seto, more annoyed at himself than at Yami.

The boy blinked, then gave a weak, tentative smile. "Okay."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a long drive back to Seto's condo, but it felt even longer than it should have. Seto was confused, reeling and irritated, suddenly a whole lot less certain about the world. His life -which had never been very stable in the first place- had suddenly turned upside-down. Whatever happened to working alone? Whatever happened to LIVING alone?

The assassin took a long, deep breath. Damn, he had too much on his mind. If it wasn't for Yami, he might have taken the time to drive around the city a few times at top speed.

As it were, they were quickly approaching downtown Domino. Looming high over them, the city towered across the night horizon, a dark beauty of metal sparkling with moonlight, glass, and the twinkling of window lights. The view was breath-taking, but too familiar to Seto to be of any interest.

Sighing, the assassin chanced a glance at his passenger and found the boy fast asleep, curled up in the velvet seat beside him. Bars of light passed over the boy's slender body, illuminating his honeyed skin and his tight leather outfit, his shirt gleaming in the dim light as his slender chest rose and lowered with his breaths. The boy's wild hair spilled over the back of the seat, his blond bangs curling daintily around his cheeks, his youthful face serene and tranquil as he slept.

He was simply ravishing.

Seto bit his lip and turned his focus back to driving. Alright, so the kid was cute, he admitted it. But a thought still nagged at him, eating away at his insides, bugging him to no end. No matter how skilled or attractive Yami was, it wouldn't change the fact that the boy knew far too much about Seto than he should. Than Seto can allow.

The assassin felt his throat tighten. Yes, he would help Yami… for now.

But someday he would have to kill him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**1** - Setep is Egyptian for "Chosen"

AN: Whheeeee, I hope that wasn't TOO terrible and somewhat interesting... :-p Again, I did base the big picture/plot/flashbacks on the plot of Noir (read my notes!) but all the details (the gun fights, all the dialogue, etc) are totally made up or based very very vaguely on what I remember, which sadly isn't much. Hopefully you guys aren't going to kill me for this fic... -runs away- PLEASE please PLEASE please leave a review! Like it? Hate it? Should I continue this story? A review would be greatly appreciated! XD Thanks guys! And I'll promise to work on my other fics too!


	2. White Roses

I apologize profoundly for being so late, but I won't give you any excuses cuz there are way too many in the first place. Anyhoo, yes, I am alive. And darn, I forgot to mention an important note the first time I uploaded Ch. 1 - "Setep" means "Chosen" in ancient Egyptian. Xp Hopefully that clears a few things up!

Anyhoo, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! I'm actually glad so many people liked the story so far (especially the gun fight part, cuz I had so much trouble with it...). :-p And yes, Kaiba is sexy... Well, he's ALWAYS sexy... -drooooool- As for Yami's amnesia-ness, I have one word: FREAKINESS. Kirika, the character I based him on, almost always has this very dull, silent gaze, and I clearly remembered being freaked out by it throughout Noir 'cause it was just so... STRANGE! Anyhoo, I'm glad that that strangeness came through my writing! Again, thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful reviews! And to answer some questions I got...

1. "Whatever happened to Yami and why are those ugly goons after him?" Hehehe... it's a secret. :-D You'll find out! (As for exactly _how_ Yami lost his memories... I have no idea. XD It never got explained, sorry... I'll have to make up some excuse later on in the story.)

2. "What about Yugi and Grandpa?" :-/ Well... all I can really say is that they're not going to be in this story. They're IMPORTANT, yes... but you'll see ultimately what "happened" to them.

3. "How old is Yami?" He's quite young... 15-ish, 16 if you push it. That's one of the major twists in this story, the fact that he's so young and yet so powerful... On one hand, he's a cold-hearted killer, but on the other hand, he's a scared little boy, still very much a child. I think it's these yin-yang qualities make him a really unique character. (A big thank you to everyone who liked that twist and commented on it:-p)

4. "Which Noir?" Uhhhhh... hm, I wasn't aware there were a lot of Noir's, but I'm referring to the anime one that came out in 2002 or so, with two girls in short skirts firing guns at random. :-p

5. "MOKUBA'S DEAD?" -turns and flees from angry mob- Eep! Hey, I needed poor, cold-hearted Seto to be at least a LITTLE emotionally unstable, you know what I mean? And its not my fault, I swear! _I_ didn't kill him! -ducks tomatoes-

Anyhoo, back on the topic of "knowing what's going on", **I would actually prefer people to sit tight and enjoy my story first before running off to find out about Noir. Hehe, the less you readers know, the more interesting this story becomes. :-D** (I have strange logic, I know...) Besides, knowing Noir just ruins all the funky twists and turns I have planned, and of course, you'll know my secrets... :-( -tear- On the other hand, **please do NOT feel alarmed if you don't know Noir** **cuz this story can stand perfectly well by itself, and I'll try to make it as understandable as possible**. :-D Noir is more like a... guideline for this story. And like I said, even with episodes and all that, Noir is confusing as hell, so don't expect a perfectly understandable story much cuz I don't understand all that much to begin with... -scratches head-

And of course, there are still those lucky few that already know Noir... A note for you guys: I was originally planning on basing every chapter on each episode, but now it looks like I'm going to take some episodes out, mix others together and put them all out of order. (This chapter's based on Episode 3; Assassin's Game, for anyone who cares...) So basically, if this story not as close to Noir as you would like, too bad. :-p

WHEW! That author note was longer than I would have liked (I'm trying to cut down, honest) so go enjoy the chapter!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**CHAPTER TWO: White Roses**

Seto wasn't sure what he expected when Yami moved in with him, but it sure wasn't normalcy. Regardless, he couldn't deny that Yami had settled easily and effortlessly into his life. Having few possessions and even fewer words to say, the boy had chosen to adopt an unnaturally quiet life style, always skirting around Seto and leaving the assassin alone to do what he wished. He also seemed extremely conscious about Seto's privacy and never tampered with the man's belongings, regardless if Seto was willing to share them or not. The only visible change to the condo that anyone could see was the addition of Yugi and Sugoroku's picture on the small coffee table by the window. If Seto hadn't seen Yami put it there, he probably wouldn't have even noticed it.

On the bright side, Yami did develop a liking for doing household chores, often working away mindlessly until weariness called for some tea and a good book. Seto, feeling awkward to have suddenly gained an unofficial housemaid, had told the boy repeatedly that such work wasn't necessary, but Yami had politely ignored him. Seto eventually gave up trying. He supposed the boy was just bored and needed something to do -after all the kid had probably been through, the assassin wouldn't have been surprised if all Yami wanted was a boring, uninteresting life.

In any case, this was all fine and dandy. The only problem Seto had was that if Yami had already cleaned the entire condo and could not find a descent book, the boy often liked to settle in a chair and watch Seto intently from across the room, blinking those big eerie eyes of his and never once uttering a word.

That habit irked Seto. He felt like he had suddenly gotten a cat.

He couldn't help but admit, though, that his life had certainly become a lot more... interesting. Plants he had owned for years suddenly blossomed for the first time, flourishing under Yami's careful care. The assassin's condo had become so squeaky clean that the man started seeing his own reflection in objects that he had long forgotten he owned. And despite the boy's efforts to hide them from Seto's path, Yami's addiction to books sometimes left the brunette staring in bewilderment at the sheer number of novels that kept appearing on his chair.

Remarkably, the assassin found himself tolerating all the boy's "quirks". He even exchanged his white sheets for red silk covers so that he could offer the bed to Yami and move himself to the couch. Yami had been startled by the offer, but Seto had been insistent. The man had, after all, been raised in a highborn family; Lord forbid, he simply wasn't going to forget _all_ his manners.

Besides... he was a sucker for big googly eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few uneventful days went by. The summer grew hotter, the people more restless, the dogs more noisy. But for the first time since he woke up, Yami was content. Seto's beautiful condo had more than enough room for two (the bed, too, though neither of them dared to mention _that_) and the boy could spend all the time he wanted tending to the plants and reading his books. Much to his relief, Seto never once tried to force him to go to school or see the city. Yami wasn't sure if this was because the assassin knew how wary he had become of the outside world or just because the brunette didn't want him tagging along his heels, but the boy never complained. After all, he liked his new life. It was easy, simple and relaxing, the type of life that he might have only dreamed of a few days ago.

But the peace did not last. Yami should have known it wouldn't. He was, after all, living with an assassin. There were always assignments to carry out and people to kill, especially if Seto was as good as he claimed to be.

"Get ready," Seto suddenly announced one day, almost out of the blue. He had just finished checking his email and had found that there was a new assignment fresh and open for him. For _them_, actually, though the rest of the world didn't know that.

Curled up on the couch in one of Seto's big T-shirts and a tight pair of cut-off shorts (Seto had been trying, for the better part of the day, to ignore just how _short_ those shorts were,) Yami looked up from his book, his face expressionless save for a quick blink. "By when?"

"Tonight." Seto closed his laptop carefully and stood, performing a long and elegant stretch. He flinched when he felt beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He normally preferred to strip down to boxers when it got this hot, but with Yami here, he had been forced to opt for a pair of sweatpants instead. Still, he had decided to leave his chest bare as a compromise.

And what a compromise that _was_! Yami tried desperately not to stare as the assassin stretched. Seto walking around half-naked all day certainly hadn't helped him focus on his book, and more than once the boy found his eyes wandering from the pages of his novel to Seto's beautiful form across the room.

There was something so tranquil and yet deadly about the way the man moved, about the way he commanded respect by just being in the room. He was like some living marble statue, all pale and handsome and built like a tiger, every part of him simply radiating with beauty and power. The man was perfection personified.

Not noticing the sudden awkwardness in the room, Seto turned -shameless of his semi-nudity, of course- and disappeared into the walk-in closet, returning moments later dressed in black pants and a loose black dress shirt. He reached for the coat hanger by the doorway, bypassing his normal trench coats to pick a casual jean jacket instead.

Yami sat up instantly. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

Yami swallowed as Seto slipped into the jacket. "Where? Why?"

"I have an errand."

Yami glanced at Seto's gun, which had been left by the computer in plain view. "You're going without your gun?"

Seto stiffened visibly. "I don't need a gun."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roses were beautiful, sacred things, symbols of love, eternity, and so much more. Seto gently cupped one flower with his hand and rubbed it tenderly with his fingers, relishing how soft and delicate the petals felt under his skin. His mother had liked roses, he remembered. She always frolicked about in the gardens, cutting up fresh buds and setting them all over the manor. When the flowers bloomed, they often filled the entire house with so much fragrance that Seto and Mokuba had to fake allergic reactions to get outside.

But that was a long time ago.

Seto looked down at the bouquet of white roses in his arms, tenderly raising the flowers to his face and inhaling their sweet, musky fragrance. Oh, the memories... His mother's face, his brother's laughter... The assassin swallowed hard, hot, burning grief stabbing at his heart.

He missed his family... He missed the times he and Mokuba had put on their father's big suits and staggered around in his giant shoes, pretending to be the kings of the world. He missed those sick days when his father told him to suck it up while his mother showered him with kisses and chocolate and soup. He missed those nights when his father used to take him in his lap and scare him with stories of big bad wolves, evil stepsisters, and worse, the taxes that won't go away. He missed those beautiful spring mornings when he'd wake up groggily to the sound of his mother's piano twinkling downstairs. But most of all, he missed the glowing love in Mokuba's big blue eyes when the boy hugged him good night.

Now, a little more than a decade later, Seto Kaiba stood once again before his family. Or at least, before all that was left of them. Three marble gravestones marked the hallowed ground before his feet, the smallest bearing just two dates and six simple words; '_Mokuba Kaiba: You will be missed_'.

Seto felt his eyes burn with fresh tears. "Hey, Mokie... Mom, Dad..." he whispered, his voice choked.

No answer. Not that he expected one.

The wind stirred, sweeping through Seto's chocolate locks and billowing through the meadow of grass, etching long, flowing patterns around the various gravestones that were scattered throughout the cemetery. By now, dark clouds had gathered in the sky, the air already sweet and heavy with moisture.

Seto didn't notice. He struggled against the sudden tightness in his throat, opening his mouth to speak only to find that nothing came out. His eyes were burning now, his vision blurred. A gentle breeze danced with his tousled bangs and carried off one twinkling tear from the edge of his left eye, throwing the sparkling droplet into the sky.

The assassin watched the tear fly and splatter on the ground. The wet streak it left behind was soon join by others, though these droplets were far bigger and more numerous.

Plit. Plat. Plit. Plat.

There was something to be said about rain, about the way it washed over a lover's heated skin, about the way it soothed the troubled... Seto raised his face to the darkened sky, his azure eyes fluttering shut as a curtain of fresh rain cascaded over his lean form. The fat raindrops splattered on his face and caressed his pale skin, sliding slowly through his thick hair and instantly soaking him through.

Seto didn't mind. After all, when it rained, no one could tell the difference between raindrops and tears.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Seto reset the bouquets a final time and stood back, feeling tired and drained. It was a good thing this cemetery was usually so empty. He was sure he looked like a total mess standing here, all alone in the rain and as wet as a dog.

The assassin sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. He knew he should be heading home to a nice warm bath, but he didn't feel like it just yet. He still needed some time to just ponder and get away from the rest of the world, to get away from all the killing and screaming that normally dominated his life.

There was a quiet sound to his right. A man's footsteps.

The assassin shifted his gaze.

A few graves away stood another man, a few years older than Seto and with long white hair. He was tall, slim and delicate, dressed in a dark suit with a bouquet of white roses in one arm and a black umbrella in the other. As Seto watched curiously, the man knelt and set his flowers on a grave, then reached out to stroke the gravestone with long, loving fingers.

The assassin felt a pang of sympathy. It was so sad to live in a world with so many lost, lonely young men. How many of them had lost a loved one? A lover? A friend?

The newcomer bowed his head, presumably to pray. After a few minutes, he climbed gingerly back to his feet, his shoulders slumped sadly. He turned, perhaps to go, and caught sight of Seto staring at him.

Their gazes met.

Seto could see that the man better now, though it was still difficult through the curtain of rain between them. The stranger turned out to be quite a handsome young lad with a long, pale face and eyes in a lovely shade of gold. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than Seto.

For a while, the two gazed curiously at each other, neither speaking nor moving.

Finally, the white-haired man inclined his head in greeting. "You should get out of the rain," he said softly. His voice was silky and strangely melodic, like that of a singer.

The assassin shrugged, sending rain flying from his broad shoulders. "I'm fine."

Unconvinced, the other man glanced at his umbrella before offering it kindly to Seto.

Seto shook his head to deny the offer. "Who did you lose?" he asked quietly, his curiosity finally overcoming him.

Tears sparkled in the newcomer's eyes as he turned to look back down at the grave at his feet. He nudged half-heartedly at his flowers with one foot, a visible shudder running through his slender body. "My wife."

Seto was unable to hide a pained wince from his face. He drifted cautiously to the man's side to glance inquisitively at the small, basalt gravestone before them.

_Beloved wife, Cecelia Pegasus._

Her youth struck Seto instantly.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, looking away uncomfortably.

The silver-haired man was silent and unmoving, immobile as a statue. There were tears in his eyes, but none fell. "She was ill," he whispered mournfully, his voice choked, "I couldn't save her..."

Seto closed his eyes briefly in sorrow. "I'm sorry," he murmured again, for lack of anything else to say.

They lapsed into silence, soothed by the soft melody of the rain. Frigid, wet wind slapped painfully at their faces until their skin was raw and cold, but neither man noticed, both lost in the serenity of the moment.

"I see you like roses as well," the newcomer said suddenly, without looking up.

Seto blinked and looked back at his family's graves. "My mother loved them, yes."

The other man smiled sadly at nothing in particular. "As did my wife," he murmured absently, "She loved them for their beauty, but I loved them for their thorns."

Seto's lips twitched upward in appreciation.

The newcomer went on in a dreamy, distant voice. "There's something fascinating about roses, I must admit..." he mused, twirling his umbrella in his long fingers, "Its strange that they're so beautiful and yet so-"

"Deadly?" Seto offered quietly.

"Yes... Deadly." The silver-haired man looked up at him, a twinkle in his eyes. "There's that famous quote, you know...My wife used to tell it to me all the time," he remarked with a surprising amount of cheerfulness in his voice, "'A life with love is full of thorns, but a life without love has no roses.'" He nodded in satisfaction, as if pleased with himself. "I believe that." **1**

Seto stiffened. "I don't need love," he mumbled gruffly. "My life is fine without it."

The other man blinked at him, then cocked his head. "Is it?" he asked quietly.

Seto scowled faintly.

The white-haired man suddenly unleashed a blindingly bright smile. "Pardon, I've been terribly rude, going on like that." He extended his hand pleasantly, "My name is Pegasus."

Seto took the hand and shook. "Kaiba."

Pegasus raised an eyebrow. "Are you, perchance, related to the Black Isle Kaiba's?"

Seto didn't even blink, though that feat took some effort. "Distantly," he lied smoothly, "but we're a few generations apart. I'm only in Domino for college." Seto grimaced inside; that wasn't exactly the most well-thought-out lie of the century. In truth, Seto's family had been small to begin with, with very few extended relatives, if any. Seto just hoped Pegasus didn't know that.

"Ah," Pegasus nodded, retracting his hand. "I work here, sometimes... but this was Cecelia's birth city. She wanted to be buried here."

Seto was silent.

"Yes, she loved this city..." Pegasus trailed off again, his eyes distant. He looked back down at his wife's grave, keeling briefly to save his flowers from a fast-growing puddle. Then he stood once more only to re-adopt that slouched, depressed position.

Puzzled, Seto decided to leave. He meandered stiffly toward the main gate, accompanied only by the sloshing sound of his boots sinking into the rain-soaked ground. He paused briefly to glance over his shoulder.

Pegasus was still there, unmoving.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Click.

Yami looked up from his book.

A sopping wet Seto trudged tiredly through the door, glaring darkly at nothing. His once blue jean jacket was now soaked to a dark black, and his hair had turned from chocolate to dreary, inky sable. Heaving a great big sigh, the assassin turned to close the door and pressed his forehead against the cool wood, breathing hard. Visible tremors ran through his slim body.

Yami bit his lip. "...Are you alright?" he asked softly, hesitantly.

"Fine."

Yami flinched at Seto's steely tone and diverted his gaze, saying nothing else.

Seto respected that. He really wasn't in a conversational mood. Taking a deep, shaky breath, the assassin closed his eyes and counted to ten. Once he was pleased that his raging emotions were under control, he slowly de-robed himself from his jacket, wincing as his wet dress shirt stuck to the thick fabric. Yanking at the bloody thing, he finally managed to hang the jacket up on the coat holder, shivering the entire way.

Yami eyed him for a second, then quietly set his book down and left the room. Moments later, the sound of running water and billowing steam filled the condo. Yami returned a little bit later, still not looking Seto in the eye. "It's hot," he offered quietly.

Seto looked at him wearily, then gave a small smile. "Thank you." It was the first time he had said that in a long time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Their mission was simple. The target was a man by the code name of Diamonde, a businessman with quite a name in the black market. Believed to have had a hand in the assassination of a young CEO just two weeks ago, he was staying just outside of town in a small, lavish resort called Le Rouge Chateau. The late CEO's widow had hired Setep to take the man out.

It was a simple, clean assignment.

Therefore, Seto decided to be simple and clean in their approach. He opted that they go in full black attire, with black pants, black shirts and of course, black boots. Seto himself would go in first, since he knew the building better, and Yami would watch his back from afar. With their skills, they were both sure they'd get in in no time.

If all went well, anyways.

"Well, its about time," Seto announced as he picked up his gun. He shut his laptop, immediately throwing the unlit room into pure darkness. They had turned off all the lights in the condo as a security measure, just in case anyone felt like peeking in on them or paying them an unwelcomed visit.

Yami blinked rapidly as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Absent-mindedly, he trailed his fingertips over his gun before checking around his belt for the extra cartridges of ammo he had clipped. He felt down his leg to where another gun -one of Seto's- was strapped to his thigh, and then lower still, to the small daggers tucked into the sides of his boots. The boy wasn't sure how Seto got all this gear, but it was sure beat dragging around a gun in plain view and stuffing bullets into the pockets of his school uniform. **2**

There was a sound to his left; Seto was standing. The tall man stretched lazily for few minutes, his tight, vinyl clothes gleaming with faint electrical luster. The light came from his window, where everything from silvery moonlight to the electric neon glow of flashing advertisements poured in from the sprawling city nightscape outside.

Yami glanced warily at the strange lights. Yes, it was a beautiful sight, but it also made him wonder what evils hid out there behind the noises and the lights, what poor woman was being assaulted in the dark alleys, what poor shop being robbed at gunpoint. He apparently had a great dislike for cities, but he didn't know why. Perhaps he was still fearful of being jumped at every corner... After all, he had spent the first few days in his recent memory running frantically for his life.

"You need a disguise," Seto remarked suddenly.

Yami turned and blinked, his scarlet eyes glowing eerily in the night light. "You're not wearing one," he pointed out politely.

Seto sighed, heading over to the mirror and the dresser by the door. He took a comb and a tub of gel and proceeded to slicking back his hair, gingerly brushing the dark bangs out of his eyes. After all, he couldn't risk missing his shots because of messy bangs. "Look, you're... unique. And you're young. You'll draw attention."

Yami gave a small smile. "Whoever sees me will be dead once I'm through."

Seto's eyes narrowed dangerously as he soothed back one last dark lock of hair. It wasn't that he didn't have faith in the boy's abilities... It was just that, well, he's never worked with anyone else before and he wasn't about to take any risky chances. A partner might hold him back or get in his way, things he could _never_ allow to happen.

Perhaps it was better to just lay this whole issue of partnership right on the table. Besides, Seto wasn't planning on keeping Yami around forever.

"Look, kid, whatever is asked of Setep is ultimately asked of _me_," the assassin murmured, dropping his comb and cocking his gun. He pointed the weapon at Yami to make his point perfectly clear. "If you ever get in my way, I'll kill you."

His threat hung heavily in the air.

Yami stiffened, instantly understanding every implication of that misleadingly simple comment. So... if someone else didn't get to him first, Seto was planning on killing him anyways, regardless of the outcome of this mission and many others to come. The only question that now remained was when.

The boy took a deep, shaky breath. Somehow, he wasn't surprised about the threat at all. He didn't know an assassin's code of honor, but from a principled man like Seto, he shouldn't have expected anything less. Seto was a loner, a one-man army. He could never fully tolerate Yami's intrusion into his life, and Yami could never forgive himself for such an intrusion.

The boy looked away. "I understand."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Seto was antsy. By some stroke of luck, Le Rouge Chateau was silent and empty, rented out entirely for Diamonde and his crew. Getting inside the resort had been easy enough, but with every step he took, Seto could feel his gut twisting more and more on itself. He had a very bad feeling about all this.

Biting his lip, the assassin shook it off. He had to _focus._ It wouldn't do if he failed this ridiculously simple assignment, especially in front of Yami.

The two young men crept gingerly through the darkened corridors, their movements as fluid and silent as water. They were but two wraiths in the night, blending easily into the shadows as they darted past some dimly lit rooms and a few emergency lights. The only indications of their presence were some muffled footsteps on the plush carpeting and the occasional flutter of Seto's trench coat.

Their path was frightfully unclear. Yami could do nothing but follow Seto's darting lead with his breath frozen in his throat and his heart pounding loudly in his ears. The hallways of this building were a dizzying maze, constantly splitting again and again into numerous dead ends. How Seto knew his way around was nothing short of a miracle.

Said brunet paused briefly at the end of a dark hallway, his entire body poised like a cat. He nodded noiselessly toward an emergency stairwell.

Without a word, Yami brushed past him and slinked through the exit door, disappearing from sight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

BHAM!

Seto kicked open the door, throwing himself on the ground. Two gaurds leapt for him, only to receive a harsh kick in the stomach and a bullet between the eyes. Without loosing a second, Seto leapt back on his feet, expecting more resistance.

None came.

The assassin narrowed his eyes as he pointed his gun aimlessly. He had expected more fighting, both inside and outside of the room... Instead, there had only been five sentries outside and just two more inside.

How very... _suspicious_.

The master suite was a grand, beautiful room with one wall made entirely of glass and furniture fit for royalty. A king size bed decorated the far wall while a marble table and a tall chair decorated the other. It was in this plush chair that a young man sat, dressed in a rather frilly red suit with a glass of champagne in one hand. A wave of silvery hair slid over one side of his face, revealing a glistening, glowing amber eye.

Seto's blood ran cold.

_Pegasus_.

A wave of emotion hit Seto like a slap in the face, the first and foremost of which was betrayal. For just those few precious moments in the graveyard, Pegasus had unknowingly gained Seto's trust. They had become brothers at heart, sharing a common pain, sharing a loss...

Seto shook himself out of it and swallowed back the dry, bitter taste in his mouth. Don't be silly, he berated himself sternly. He was an assassin. To him, anyone could be the enemy.

Pegasus eyed him curiously, a smug smirk on his face.

A part of Seto's mind was screaming at him to shoot. To shoot and kill and wipe that annoying grin right off the man's face. And all it would take would be one... single... shot...

Seto's trembling fingers tightened on the trigger of his gun, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't help but see a mourning young man kneeling before him, weeping over the death of his lovely young bride.

"Hello, Setep," Pegasus all but purred, taking a long sip of his wine. "On time, as usual."

Seto stiffened. _How_...?

Pegasus snapped his fingers. The curtains covering the glass wall began to pull up, one by one. Moonlight poured into the room, illuminating Pegasus first, then the desk, then the bed, then the plush carpeting across the rest of the room.

Seto couldn't breathe, his mind reeling. How... Why... Who...?

The moonlight crept closer, spilling across the floor and slinking up Seto's body to reveal his boots... then his ankles... then his legs... then his gun...

Pegasus took another sip and seemed far too amused at the situation. "Well well, I must admit, I never imagined Setep to be such a deliciously handsome young man..."

Seto snapped out of it as the moonlight began to crawl up his neck to his chin. His face! He couldn't let Pegasus see his face! Screaming at himself inside, the assassin covered his burning face with one hand and bolted from the room in a flash of black vinyl.

Within a blink of an eye, men in black suits began pouring in from every direction. They flew out of Pegasus's closet and leapt from the ceiling, some forcing their way through the glass wall and shattering the window into a flurry of broken pieces.

Seto sprinted through the dark hall at neck-breaking speed, his breathing hard and fast in his chest. He could hear an army of men exploding into action around him, surprising him from closets he had overlooked and doorways that he was sure had been locked before. The hallways were literally filling up with the enemy.

_It's a trap_, Seto realized with a jolt. They were after Setep all along. They were after _him_.

The man bit the inside of his mouth until he could feel it bleed. He was angry, so so angry... He had been a careless fool. He should have known, should have guessed, should have pulled back... Not only had he failed a mission for the first time in his life, he had also been cleverly set up. And Seto Kaiba HATED being set up.

The brunet was shooting madly now, driven by instinct and a great deal of anger. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, the muzzle flashes of guns so numerous that they lit up the hallways with blinding, eerie light.

Seto felt two bullets whiz pas his ear as he threw himself around the bend of a dark hallway. The position gave him an advantage, albeit a small one. He took a few seconds to breathe, then began shooting mercilessly down the way he came, taking down man after man after man. Pained screams began to fill the air, sounding like music to Seto's ears.

A flash of crimson and black caught the man's eye.

Yami was sprinting down the hallway from the opposite direction, shooting occasionally over his shoulder at his own flock of pursuers. The boy screeched to a stop and settled down against the corner opposite Seto's, his eyes somewhat wild. He said nothing, but his silence asked a million questions.

"Its a trap," Seto stated, as if they both didn't know that already. The assassin pursed his lips and shot briefly over the T-shaped bend of the hallway. A wave of bullets met him and he quickly retreated back against the wall.

This wasn't helping. They were still brutally outnumbered, and they were trapped unless they could find a way out.

Yami watched curiously as Seto began to feel along the walls blindly, trying every door he found and giving them a good kick or two. There was a loud crunch when two double doors gave way, followed by the flutter of a heavy trench coat as Seto disappeared inside to check it out. A second later, a hand with a gun appeared, waving the boy in.

Yami glanced at the crowd of men racing down the hall, then back at the open door just a few feet down the corridor. So close, yet so far...

The boy took a deep breath and ran for it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They found themselves in a large, vast casino room filled with game machines, bars and abandoned blackjack tables. Yami blinked and lowered his weapon, baffled by his surroundings. He had never been in a casino before... or if he had, he couldn't remember.

Seto took a few minutes to jam the door as best he could before he ambled over to a small bar in the middle of the chamber. Sitting on a stool and pouring himself some champagne, the brunet brought the slender glass to his lips and sipped delicately. "Good wine," he murmured gruffly, offering some to Yami.

The boy shook his head and made a face, then jumped a little when the jammed door behind him suddenly rattled and shook.

They both glanced at it. Seto's lips pursed. True, they were still trapped, but now they had one major advantage; the door. The men outside would have to force themselves through the door in threes or fours, exposing themselves to the quick aim of the two young men inside. It wasn't the best of plans, but it was all they had to work with.

Seto calmly sipped some more wine and spotted a bowl of popcorn. "Want some?" He held it up toward Yami as the banging on the door grew louder and louder.

Yami shot the door an unreadable look, then turned toward Seto and the popcorn. There was a strange glint in his eyes, a sudden sparkle of an idea. He gave a small, rare smile. "Sure. I'd love some."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Kill the lights."

BZZT. The butt of a gun made contact with an electrical panel on the wall. The panel flickered once and died.

The hallway went pitch black.

"Everyone got their googles?"

A chorus of "Yes".

"On my count... One... Two... THREE!"

CRASH. The door collapsed from the outside and splintered into pieces as two men crashed simultaneously into the hard wood. Instantly, the first four men were braced against the doorway, guns out and cocked.

It was deathly silent. The casino would have been pitch black if it hadn't been for the slivers of moonlight trickling in from a distant window.

"Go," one of the men whispered, his voice strained. "Search the interior."

Two nearby men nodded and stood carefully, taking a slow step forward.

CRUNCH.

Every man within hearing distance jumped at the sound. Popcorn! There was popcorn all over the ground!

BHAM! BHAM!

Two separate gunshots fired from two separate directions. Two men collapsed neatly.

Startled silence.

Pulling back his arm, Yami rested quietly against the side of a game machine, his eyes closed in concentration. He seemed unnaturally serene in such a desperate and tense battle. In reality, however, the boy's nerves were on edge, his senses hypersensitive to the point of pain. His gift at killing was aching to be put to use, and the boy knew that this was not the time nor place to fight it.

CRUNCH.

Yami didn't bother shift his body or open his eyes. He raised his arm and fired once.

BHAM.

The man collapsed.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Yami's lips. It wasn't a smile of joy, nor the victorious grin of a young boy. It was the smirk of a killer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pegasus could see the young man now, crouched against a table that could hardly hide his tall frame. The assassin was still a boy really... hardly old enough to be called a man. They had been shown pictures of him as a child, when he was nothing more than a little squirt with big hair and massive blue eyes. It would be a pity to see him die, but alas, he couldn't be allowed to live.

Pegasus pursed his lips as he drew his slender blade from his belt. His harness effortlessly accommodated the movement, his lifeline stretching to hold his weight as he was lowered downward from the ceiling.

Twenty feet now...

The assassin shifted his weight and shot twice, killing two men by the doorway before he quickly retreated back to his crouched position.

Fifteen... twelve...

Pegasus's eyes flashed eerily under his goggles as his blade came up into a thrusting position. He hadn't been allowed to use a gun because people too often collapsed from a gun wound only to get right up later. A knife wound, on the other hand, kept people down. Permanently.

Ten... eight... six...

Seto strained his eyesight. It was extremely dark in the room, but with the help of the moonlight, he was able to catch a few glimpses of the big, lumbering men that continuously poured in through the door. He fired occasionally, taking some down that got too close for comfort, but Yami was mainly doing all the work, killing man after man with an almost mechanical rhythm.

Seto shifted a little to his left, glancing at where he knew Yami was. The boy was invisible to him from such a distance, but he seemed to be alive and well, if the repeated shots from that direction meant anything.

Suddenly, two glowing, crimson gems flickered to life in the dark.

It took Seto a second to realize they were Yami's cat-like eyes glowing in the rays of moonlight. Now, why would Yami to be looking over here...?

The assassin turned over his shoulder, catching a flash of metal. He had enough experiences with blades to know what that meant. With an alarmed cry, the brunet dropped and rolled, firing three shots blindly toward the source of the flashing silver knife.

There was a pained, startled gasp followed by the dull thud of a body dropping to the ground.

Seto pulled in desperate breath after breath, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. That had been far too close. Swallowing harshly, he crawled carefully over toward the body, drawn by curiosity.

He first came across a well-fitted blade, which he kicked away nervously. He then came across an arm... and a chest... and a face...

"_Pegasus_..." Seto whispered, finding his throat unbearably dry. His eyes flashed with fury as he brought up his gun, aiming it for the other man's temple. "You _bastard_."

Pegasus's gold eyes fluttered open weakly, glazed over with pain as they shifted toward Seto. The man's visage was remarkably calm, devoid of fear or anger or hate. Seto recognized that face. It was the expression of a doomed man, one that was willing to accept his death peacefully.

"Seto Kaiba..." Pegasus whispered, his voice soft and weak. "What a remarkable name..."

So, Seto thought numbly, his face HAD been seen. Either that or Pegasus knew who he was long before they met, which was a very frightening thought.

"Only distantly related to the Black Isle Kaiba's, you say...?" Pegasus managed with a dry laugh.

Seto's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Who sent you?" he snarled as he tightened his grip on his gun. "Whose after me?"

Pegasus's eyes flickered with a mad gleam, but he was far from delirious. A faint smile touched his lips. "_Everyone_."

Seto felt a shudder run up his spine. Surely that was a jest... "Who SENT you?"

"Everyone," Pegasus's smile turned dry. "You wouldn't understand..."

"Try me."

Pegasus's eyes closed briefly, then opened with some effort. He was fading fast, but he seemed willing to tempt Seto for now. "Shen Ka."

The name didn't ring a bell whatsoever. Seto frowned. "Who?"

Pegasus's eyes slipped shut again and he began talking in a daze, his voice fading with every word. "Guardians... everywhere... T-they... are guardians... Setep are those chosen..."

Seto's frown deepened. This made absolutely no sense. "Stop talking in riddles," he said, softer this time. He couldn't help but have a little respect for a man battling death.

"Riddles..." Pegasus laughed again, though the sound was strained and harsh. It seemed to have taken all his energy to make it, "My w-wife loved riddles." His eyes opened briefly and slid toward Seto one last time, their once fiery amber pupils now dulled to a copper hue. "Give her some roses for me...?" he whispered, voice so faint Seto could barely hear it.

The brunet swallowed and nodded.

Pegasus breathed a few more times before one last, shallow breath escaped his body. It was a peaceful death, or just about as peaceful as a gun-killed victim could go.

Seto bit his lip hard, closing his eyes briefly to contain a hot, burning wave of grief. "Say hi to Mokie for me..." he whispered, reaching out with a shaky hand to close Pegasus's half-open eyes.

In the distance, he could hear the last remnants of a heated gunfight fading into nothingness. Without looking, he knew they had won. Yami had not let him down, nor had the boy gotten in his way. Somehow, the thought didn't cheer Seto up one bit.

Moments later, a slender body knelt on the other side of Pegasus's prone body. "Did you know him?" Yami asked quietly, out of his element now that the fighting was over. He could not feel the guilt nor grief of killing another, but upon seeing the pain in Seto's eyes, Yami wasn't sure if that was such a bad thing.

Seto didn't answer.

"Were you..." Yami hesitated, "friends?"

Seto's eyes flashed and a forced look of cold difference passed over his face. He stood gracefully, smoothing out his trench coat and tucking his gun into his belt. "No," he answered quietly, "We weren't friends."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Seto had no idea what possessed him to go to the graveyard again. Perhaps it was guilt or something, but he didn't know.

He bought four bouquets and carried them all to the graveyard, ignoring the slight drizzle on his back. The cemetery was empty, as usual. He spent some time with his family, as he always did, but soon found himself making his way down to Cecelia's grave, his last bouquet of roses in his arms.

Pausing to stand before that small grave, Seto suddenly felt very stupid. Foolish, even. Here he was, doing an odd favor for a dead man who once tried to kill him. Someday, he might look back on this experience and laugh at himself.

With a quiet sigh, the assassin knelt and placed the bouquets gently on Cecelia's grave. He paused a little to fiddle with the flowers, making sure they wouldn't blow away in the wind. He then turned on his heel and left quickly for home, feeling a little silly. Cecelia was dead, as was Pegasus. He didn't know either one, and they certainly didn't know him.

Seto closed his eyes briefly. The important thing now was that he was alive and they were not. He would go on to fight more battles and shed more tears and blood. Pegasus, however, would not. Seto would live a life of pain, and Pegasus would have an eternity of peace.

It made Seto wonder which of them was luckier.

Behind him, the clouds began to part for the first time in a week. Slowly, hesitantly, the sun began to shine.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AN: I know, I know, kinda an anti-climatic ending, but I'm really too tired to care. XD The thing I love about Noir is that it's exciting, touching and sad without being overly dramatic or incredibly angsty. And it's even a bit fluffy at times. My type of story, in other words. :-p I hope you guys enjoyed that chapter, I worked hard on it! Leave me a review or an email or an AIM, whatever you want.

**1** - One of my FAAAAVE quotes in the whole world! XD I don't remember who said it though...

**2** - Major plot hole here, people... I'm not sure why, but despite how good they are, Mireille and Kirika (the two characters from Noir I based Seto and Yami on, respectively) never use sophisticated technology, despite the fact their enemies use night googles and what not. -shrug- Maybe they must like traditions or something, beats me.


	3. NEW! The Big Blue Sea

Yes, I'm alive. . Kinda lol. I was being a lazy-ass for the past few months because school was killer and I just wanted to sleep (a lot.) BUUUT then I realized it was May already and that I definitely need to update before I totally forget to. So, here's a much delayed chapter for those of you that are still reading the story! Hope there's still some fans out there lol.

Note: This is a somewhat simplified version of Noir Episode 4: Sound of Waves. (I skipped episode 2, for those of who didn't read my notes before.) I don't really understand the whole complexity of who killed who for what, so I'll just focus on who Noir killed and be done with it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Chapter 3: The Big Blue Sea**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Wonderful party, don't you think?" Nataku murmured with a content sigh.

Kyoru nodded and took a sip of his champagne, making a face as the carbonation went straight to his nose. He smacked his lips in delight and quickly finished the glass. "Bloody strong stuff, this is," he commented gruffly as he set aside the empty cup, "I won't be surprised if everyone drives home and crashes."

"That's why we all have limos, idiot." Nataku rolled his eyes drowsily.

It was the inauguration of some company's new CEO, but the alcohol had fuzzed the man's mind enough so that he couldn't remember anything beyond that. In any case, it WAS a nice party. All the businessmen were lounging comfortably on the porch of the new CEO's mansion, surrounded by refreshments, flowers and the sound of the waves crashing just a few hundred feet away. The smell of wine and appetizers filled the air as waiters scuttled back and forth, scrambling to refill half-empty wine glasses. In the background, the sun glowed brilliantly in all its noon glory, bathing the partiers with warm, golden light.

"Pardon, monsieur, would you like some more champagne?"

Nataku peeked open one eye. A handsome brunet waiter with bright blue eyes and a cute mustache hovered over their table, holding up a bottle of strong white wine. The businessman blinked, then closed his eyes again. He made a mental note to check the boy out when he was somber. It wouldn't do to flirt if he couldn't even form words correctly.

"Its not more of this strong, fruity stuff, is it?" Kyoru demanded, holding up his empty glass.

"Non, monsieur," the young man replied with a strong French accent, "This is an oriental drink… Much more fluid."

"Ah," Kyoru mumbled, allowing the boy to refill his glass and Nataku's.

The waiter bowed his head and soon left without a word.

Kyoru sniffed suspiciously at his drink, then took a hesitant sip. "Mmm, nice," he mumbled, quickly taking a few large gulps.

Nataku fumbled for his own drink and carefully took a sip. He grinned at the burning warmth that wormed its way into his gut. "We should get the boss to let us come here more often," he murmured, inhaling the sweet, honeyed scent of the champagne. "We get food, wine..." Opening one eye, he reached out and pinched the ass of a short waiter that happened to be ambling by, "and lots of cute little waiters."

The wild-haired boy paused and shot a warning look over his shoulder. His red eyes were cold and dead, showing neither anger nor surprise. Not a bit deterred, however, Nataku only gave the young waiter a saucy wink and chuckled as the boy was called away by a fat man in the corner.

THUD.

Nataku jolted and glanced to his right.

Kyoru had collapsed face-down on the table, his glass still upright and empty in his hand.

"Poor bastard," Nataku observed sadly, finishing the rest of his drink, "He never could hold his alcohol." He closed his eyes in bliss as he relished the wine's taste. Then, a second later, his head collapsed on the table with a dull _thunk_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Daddy!" The loud call turned quite a few heads. A young teenager with a freckled face and curly red hair waved joyfully from the end of the terminal, a massive grin on her face. She ran through the bustling crowd and latched herself to the body of a stern-faced man in a gray suit. "You came!"

_SLAP_.

Stunned, the girl stepped back, clutching her cheek and fighting tears. A few curious travelers stopped to stare.

"You're supposed to stay in New York." The man's tone was quiet and deadly.

The girl gave a small, trembling sob. "B-But… its my birthday! I wanted to see you!"

"You know how busy I am!" snapped the man as he grabbed her arm and manhandled her down the hallway. His grip was strong enough that it left bruises on her skin.

The girl simply hung her head and followed, now limp as a rag. No one dared to stop and help her. The look on her father's face was enough to make even the security guards wince.

"Good morning, sir. Good morning, Rosalyn," saluted the chauffeur the moment they stepped outside. He was quick to open the door to the white limo waiting for them.

The father grunted something as he shoved Rosalyn in the car, snapping at the driver to get them to the nearest hotel. "I'll book a room for you," he growled at his daughter.

The girl remained silent and unmoving by his side. A slight flinch was the only sign that she even heard him.

Meanwhile, a pair of curious scarlet eyes watched them from a distance. Yami cocked his head as the limo drove away. Though he had no memory of his own family, he was fairly certainly they had treated him better than what he had just witnessed.

"The pigeons aren't _that_ interesting," came an impatient voice from inside, "C'mon, I have to go get a car."

Yami turned his attention back to Seto, who was glaring impatiently at him from the doorway. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_There are definite perks to being a world-class assassin_, Seto mused to himself as he tested the gears of his new car. Even if he didn't have this job, his parents had left enough money for him to last two or three generations. Seto, however, never used any of it. While he doubted he would ever have kids to pass the money off to, depending on his deceased parents' money didn't exactly settle well with his conscious. His father had always been a firm believer that every worthy man should earn his own living. After his family's murder, Seto had decided to take that lesson to heart.

On the other hand, he doubted his father would approve of his present-day job. The thought made the brunet smile mirthlessly.

"Where are we going?" Yami's quiet voice broke his reverie. He was fingering his Eye pendant again, a sign of nervousness.

Seto blinked and suddenly realized that he had left the boy in the dark for the majority of their trip. Admirably, the boy had been a trooper and hadn't asked questions until now. "We're after Jonathan Hammond, the CEO of Arch Corp," he announced, running a hand through his wind-blown hair, "The city isn't far from here, but we're going to stop by my family's old summer home for supplies."

The summer home was a discreet but pretty enough place, consisting of a old white house with red shutters and a mass of ivy growing over its front. Situated right between a long span of beach and the road, it secreted a calm, secluded and surprisingly cheerful atmosphere. There was even a new welcome mat at the door.

Yami watched in surprise as Seto hopped out of the car, grabbed their bags from the trunk and made his way to the house with an uncharacteristic bounce to his steps. The boy hesitated for a minute longer before he quickly scrambled him.

Inside, the house was clean but sparsely furnished, with the air of a place that had been slightly neglected over the years. Seto, however, didn't seem to mind as he tossed their luggage on the nearest sofa and immediately began to sift through their clothes. There wasn't much to go through, despite the fact that the brunet had recently bought Yami some clothes that actually _fit_ him.

Said boy was now peeking over Seto's shoulder with a baffled frown. He had grown used to the assassin's habits over the last few weeks, but this certainly didn't count amongst them.

Seto flashed him a rare, light-hearted smile as he held up two pairs of swimming trunks, a white one for himself, and a red one for Yami. "Let's go to the beach."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Here we are," Hammond sighed as he opened the door to the hotel room. His anger had melted away during the ride and had left him with nothing but a splitting headache and a daughter who now refused to speak with him.

Rosalyn brushed past him without a word, hardly glancing at her new surroundings before she threw herself on the plush bed and gave a heavy sigh.

Hammond fought the urge to slap himself. He always had a temper problem, but it had worsened since the divorce and had been constantly fueled by the stress from his job. His doctor had prescribed anti-depressants to calm his severe mood swings, but he rarely took the medication. He was now starting to regret that decision. "Do you like it?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence.

His daughter merely spooned her head in her arms and turned away from him. There was a visible tremor in her shoulders that made her father wince.

Hammond hesitated before stepping into the room and pulling open the blinds to the windows. Bright sunlight suddenly flooded the room, revealing a stunning view of the rest of the town and the coast beyond it. "It has a nice view," he murmured in a lame attempt to quell his own guilt.

An enthusiastic photographer, Rosalyn sat up, a little bit of her old energy sparkling in her eyes. "It does," she agreed quietly.

Hammond nodded, coughing into his hand. "So, uh, how are you and your mother doing?"

Rosalyn looked at him with a small amount of surprise, a smile twitching at the edge of her lips. Ever since the divorce, her parents have refused to speak to one another, but she took comfort in the fact that they still cared about each other in their own secretive way. "We're fine. The condo in New York is really nice 'cause I can see the Empire State Building from my room. I still miss being here though," she admitted, a bit sheepishly.

Hammond felt a wave of relief flood through him and he gave a rare, albeit small, smile. "Well, you can stay all week, if you'd like."

Surprise and delight bloomed on Rosalyn's face; she had expected to be either grounded or sent back home, at best. "Truly?" she squealed as she flung herself at her father. "Thank you, Daddy!"

Hammond smiled as he patted her on the back. When she pulled away, he pulled out his wallet and fished out one of his credit cards. He quickly held it high above his daughter's head as she reached for it eagerly. "Ah-ah-ah! Food _only_. Remember the last time I let you use this card?"

A giant grin spread across Rosalyn's face as she nodded. It was rare that her father spoiled her like so, and she certainly wasn't about to let the opportunity pass on by. "Thank you, Daddy!" she gushed again as he relented and passed her the card. Kissing her father on the cheek, she quickly grabbed her bag and all but skipped out of the room, yelling over her shoulder that she'll be back before four.

Hammond had to smile a little. While the divorce had been hard and had left him bitter, he desperately missed the young whirlwind that was his daughter. He only wished he didn't have to slap her to realize that the next time.

_Beep beep beep_.

The CEO frowned and glanced down as he pulled out his phone. It was Capolla, one of his assistant managers. "What?" he snapped as he flipped it open. He had told them repeatedly that he didn't want to be bothered until he got back to headquarters.

"Sir… We think its Setep."

Silence.

Hammond stopped breathing. "Are you certain?" he pressed, a feverish chill running up his spine. "He's the one that killed Kyoru and Nataku?"

"It's the best guess we have." There was a slight hesitation. "And… there are reports that a unlicensed car was spotted maybe twenty miles away at an old house. Should we check it out? "

Hammond rubbed his pounding temple with one hand; if possible, his headache had just gotten worse. "Send out some troops with you. I want that house _demolished_, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yami had never been to the beach, that much was obvious. He stumbled awkwardly across the sand, distracted by the calls of the seagulls and occasionally jumping from the foamy waves that danced over his feet. Fascinated by the bubbles in the water, he knelt and poked at them with wide-eyed curiosity, dragging his fingers through the wet sand and forming twin rivers of rapids around his wrists. His Eye necklace dipped into the water as he played, prompting the boy to toss it over his shoulder as he began to lift up handfuls of soaked, drippy sand.

Seto watched him with a raised eyebrow from under his sunglasses; Yami never ceased to surprise him. The boy was able to kill a room full of armed men without blinking an eye, and yet here he was, attempting to build the sloppiest sand castle the assassin had ever seen. With a mental shrug, the brunet readjusted his sunglasses and cupped his hands behind his neck. It was rare that he had a moment of peace, and he intended to put it to good use. Tanning seemed like a better idea than building sandcastles anyways.

He must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing he knew, the assassin found himself physically jolting awake. He sat up from his beach chair and looked around with vivid alarm.

Yami looked up from his sand castle and watched him curiously, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Seto flipped himself off the chair and headed over to the back porch, where he promptly got on his knees and pressed one ear to the wooden floor. He could feel faint vibrations under his fingertips, and his sharp ears picked up the sound of distant rumbling. With a colorful curse, he sat back on his heel and ran a hand through his sun-kissed hair. "Shit. _Tanks_."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We have you surrounded! I repeat, we have you surrounded! Come out in peace!" The man's voice cracked over the loudspeaker and echoed through the silence that had settled around the house. There was a low rumble as another tank shifted forward and joined the semi-circle of troops positioned around the lone building.

More silence. A crow cawed from the top of an ailing palm tree.

There was a low chuckle from one of the older men. "Maybe we have the wrong house."

CREEEEAAAAK.

The white door of the house suddenly slid open.

There was a string of curses as everyone tensed and shifted into defense positions, some men dodging behind the open doors of their humvees, others retreating into the safety of the tanks. The sound of guns being cocked suddenly filled the air, and the lone crow quickly took to the air and left the area.

A small figure slid out from behind the door, dressed in red swimming trunks, an oversized Hawaiian shirt and a massive straw hat. A tote bag swung lightly on his shoulder as he headed toward the troops with light, cheerful steps.

The troops stared in blatant confusion.

"What the hell? Its just a kid!" one man hissed to a companion, whom could only shrug helplessly.

The youth paused once he was about twenty feet away, raising the brim of his hat to peer at the confused men with piercing red eyes. The edges of his lips suddenly twisted upward in an eerie smile.

"Holy--!" someone screamed in surprise as the boy suddenly reached in the tote bag and pulled out a pair of matching black guns.

Faster than it seemed humanly possible, the youth darted toward the line of vehicles and began to fire in quick succession, taking down man after man with heart-stopping precision. An immediate shower of bullets was returned in his direction, but by then it was too late; he was already in the midst of the troops, dodging and weaving between individual soldiers as the men scrambled to turn and shoot at the right person.

"Oof!" A gunner went down hard as the boy rammed him hard in the stomach, throwing him off-guard and ripping him from his position behind a humvee door.

The youth quickly grabbed the abandoned gun, flung himself under the car, and began to shoot like a wild man. The rapid _rat-tat-tat_ of machine fire soon filled the air, followed by an array of startled cries and the sound of bodies dropping.

"Take him out, take him out!" the commander screamed from on top of one of the tanks. The tanks themselves were useless at such a close range, and most of them began spinning around in circles as they tried to find a suitable target.

There was an explosion of chaos. Men scrambled to hide themselves and gain their bearings, some to reload and others to aim. The sheer number of bullets flying about turned the air opaque with heavy smoke and turned friendly fire into a deadly enemy force. No one was even sure if they were aiming at their own companions or the youth himself.

_Flit. Flit._

One man jerked and suddenly slumped against his humvee door. His companion soon collapsed as well, followed by two drivers. The front windows of the cars began to shatter one by one, showering the startled soldiers with pieces of glass as they scrambled to find this new threat.

"Sniper!" someone screamed, "Sniper! On the second story!"

"Take out the house!"

One of the tanks that hadn't been confused in the fight swiveled its barrel around, firing one massive shot at the top of the house. Its aim was off slightly, but the explosion still ripped off a good chunk of the roof. Another shot, and a fourth of the house was gone, simply ripped to shreds. Pieces of burnt wood began to shower from the sky. More acrid smoke clogged the air and momentarily cut off the tank's view of the damaged house.

Suddenly, a strange, new sound joined the cacophony. The roar of a powerful engine cut through the cries of the men as a flash of red darted through the smoke, followed by another burst of color as the Hawaiian-clad boy threw himself into the car.

"Shoot it!" the commander roared to one of the tanks. "Shoot the damn car!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the days that Yami had spent with Seto, the boy couldn't remember ever being frightened.

But then again, there was a first time for everything.

The youth had barely managed to strap on his seatbelt before Seto stepped on the brake and violently spun the car. The tires screeched in protest and left twin trails of burn marks behind them. Only a few feet from where they had just been, the ground suddenly exploded in a shower of grass and dirt and fire.

Yami flinched and glanced nervously at Seto.

The brunet didn't seem fazed at all. He drove with his jaw set with stubbornness and his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his sharp eyes focused on the rearview mirror as he tried to predict the moves of the tanks that were now rumbling after them. "Hang on!" he called suddenly as he spun the car again, only barely avoiding two explosions that erupted on their right.

Yami ducked and covered his head as chunks of rock and dirt began to pellet the car. He was suddenly very glad that he didn't know how to drive.

Seto, however, was annoyed. He didn't like running from a fight, but he knew that his convertible had no chance against a bunch of tanks. It was definitely time to haul ass.

Pulling out of his zig-zag driving, the assassin stepped on the gas and watched as his speed topped 80… then 100… then 120 mph. As the wind shrieked past their ears and the rumbling presence of the tanks faded away, the two young men suddenly found themselves alone with nothing but the triumphant thrumming of the car's engine.

Yami exhaled shakily and glanced behind them, seeing nothing but a cloud of dust kicked up by the back wheels.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Seto commented cheerfully, leaning back and allowing the wind to whip through his bangs. "I'll miss that house though."

Yami blinked at him and decided it was best to stay silent.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"They WHAT?" Hammond almost snapped the receiver in two. "It was ONE car. You can't even hit ONE car?" With a disgusted grunt, he hung up and promptly tossed the phone against the wall. It made a satisfying crunch as it fell to the ground.

The CEO fumed for a minute longer before he whipped out his cell to call his assistant managers. "Capolla, get James. Set up maximum security measures. And find that goddamn car!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

James grumbled something rude under his breath as he stepped into the elevator, followed closely by Capolla. "Why does he always call when I'm getting coffee?"

"Oh, shut up," Capolla snapped as he pressed the button for the basement. He took out his gun from his belt and cocked it, making sure to check that it was fully loaded. "You want to drive this time?"

"Sure. You almost got us fucking killed last time. What kind of car are we looking for again?"

"I dunno. Red something. You know how great Hammond is with adjectives," Capolla snorted, putting his gun back in its holster just as the elevator door opened.

A pair of twinkling blue eyes greeted the two startled men. "Hello there," Seto purred, raising his gun.

_Bam! Bam!_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hammond sighed and brought his hands up to his pounding temples. He was trembling slightly. He knew many people were after his life, but to send _Setep_ after him… Obviously, that someone wasn't taking any chances. The thought made him shudder in dread.

He suddenly wondered what Rosalyn was doing. Playing video games? Watching TV? Calling her friends? Hammond's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what his daughter's hobbies were. It saddened him to realize that he simply didn't know.

The man's fingers itched to reach for his cell phone. He _could_ just call her…

No… He wouldn't even know what to say. That was one of his most worst traits, his ex-wife always told him; he just couldn't hold a decent conversation with anyone.

Hammond dug his fingers into his hair. His wife… Just thinking of her made his headache pound even more. His eyes instinctively drifted toward a picture of his family that rested at the edge of his desk. They had taken it years ago when they had gone to Disneyworld for Sarah's tenth birthday.

The CEO's fingers trembled as he picked up the picture and stroked the frame with loving care. When was the last time he had smiled like that? When was the last time he had even seen his wife? They had been such a happy, picture-perfect family… What happened?

The door creaked open.

Hammond's eyes were teary and red as he looked up. His breathe suddenly caught in his throat.

Two young men stood under his doorway, one tall and lean, the other shorter and more compact. The taller youth silently raised an arm and aimed his gun at Hammond's forehead, his blue eyes cold, his face expressionless.

_So_, Hammond though numbly, _This is what the angel of death looks like_.

A single shot was all it took. Hammond's body crumbled neatly in his seat, his arms and legs suddenly going slack. The picture frame slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, the glass shattering in a dozen places.

It went unnoticed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rosalyn was quite pleased with herself. She now had all the ingredients to make her special pasta sauce, despite the fact that it took her the better part of the day shopping for them. The girl happily cradled her precious bag of cargo as she headed back to the hotel, choosing to take the longer route across the beach so she could walk barefoot in the sand.

"Oh!" She gasped with surprise as a cold wave brushed over her feet, making her jump and causing a lone tomato to fall out of her bag.

The red fruit began to roll down the beach and stopped only when it hit the foot of another youth, this time a slender young man with wild hair and brilliant red eyes. Having been in the process of making a sand castle, the boy stopped his activities and glanced curiously at the tomato by his toe. He looked up at the girl running toward him and immediately understood. He picked up the fruit and silently offered it to her just as she reached him.

"Sorry about that! Thank you!" she chirped as she took the rogue tomato and stuffed it back in her bag. Then she was off, whistling a happy tune as she kicked happily through the surf.

Yami watched her go, his face expressionless. He then turned back to his sandcastle and found that a wave had washed it all away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AN: Its an interesting twist, I think, to make Hammond seem like a good guy in the end. (Sadly, it wasn't my idea.) Noir is definitely an emotional roller coaster, and this episode is a good example of how tragic the story can be. I honestly don't know if I did it justice… I also had to make up quite a lot of the chapter because my friend borrowed my Noir episodes and I was left with nothing but my crappy imagination and the soundtrack, lol.

Ewwww, I don't like my descriptions though. Everything sounds really… choppy after I cut out all my babbling. Dammit, I need more writing practice.

In any case, I gotta go collapse cuz I'm sick and I feel like crap. Plus, I have AP testing tomorrow, and I didn't study. (SIIIIGH) Please leave a review! It'd be nice for me to know that people are still reading this story lol. Sorry about being so late, again!


End file.
